Trainwreck
by Athiya
Summary: Cass and Jason on a mission or two. Pretty much just Jason trying to do good with a Bat for the first time, and Cass reaching out to him. CassxJason. Some angst. Some fluff.
1. Cass

"You are ... angry when you fight ... Resentful."

"Yeah?" Jason said without looking up. He allowed a smirk on his face, but his attention was still focused on the different parts of the gun in front of him. His fingers moved nimbly between each instruments, caressing them with a spare cloth, attending to the little dust evident on the surface. So much devotion, Cass thought, for such a small object.

"What happened ..." Cass continued, "between you and Batman?"

Jason froze abruptly. The smug grin he had was gone, replaced by a silent frown. "It doesn't matter," he replied, indifferent. "And it's none of your damn business, anyway." He turned away, all body movements indicating that he did not wish to discuss the matter further. Similarly, this was also the reaction Cass had received from Batman when inquired about the past life of the second Robin; she noted how both had dropped the subject before it even started.

There was something different from each of them, though. The eyes.

Bruce's eyes had been sad, heavy with guilt. He had looked away from her with deliberation, much slower than Jason had done. If anything, it seemed as if Bruce _wanted_ to tell her about Jason, but ultimately decided against doing so because the shame would be too much to bear. And as such he told her not to bring it up again, that there were just things that she could not ask. But Cass could read him. Bruce was scared and miserable and remorseful, and he needed to lock away those emotions deep inside him because it was his defense mechanism against grief. He felt that he was to blame for whatever happened to Jason. Maybe he was. Cass didn't know.

Jason's eyes, in turn, displayed raw disappointment. There were no hints of him having the desire to enlighten Cass of his own murder, nor of the conflict that followed it. He was cold about it. Uncaring. Detached. At least, he tried so hard to show that he didn't care that Cass almost believed it. She could tell that Jason was faking, though — faking the way he shrugged like he didn't give a damn and continued his business as if she was just asking about the weather. Jason ... he was much better than Bruce at hiding his feelings.

"Here he comes," Jason warned, raising the cock of his gun.

They both watched sharply as a dark silhouette of a man came creeping near the abandoned building. Cass took a moment to observe Jason, in case he would decide to play leader again and signal when it was time to charge. He was quiet, though. Eerily so.

And there, right _there_, Cass could clearly see Jason's eyes changing from slightly distracted to hard and unforgiving. He still maintained his outward appearance of composure, but the hammering of his heart was unmistakable, and the way he gripped his gun just a bit tighter didn't go unnoticed to her. He was gazing at the man like a hawk looking at its' prey, growing impatient with every second wasted, but knowing full well that a good attack needs preparation. He caught her looking at him. He nodded. Knowing Jason, he probably thought that Cass was waiting for him to be ready.

So Cass leaped down the rooftop and landed on the ground with a small thump. The man, Bailey the Rapist, was shocked at first, emitting a sound between a yelp and gasp from his throat. He soon calmed himself, but when he did, a nasty grin spread across his face.

"Hey, babe."

Cass took an intense dislike to him that very moment.

Then Jason was on her side, hood and guns and all. He turned to Cass and just eyed her for a few seconds, his hood preventing her to read his face. She knew what the stare meant, though: _Why the hell did you leave me?_ Cass responded by giving him a half shrug. This was not his case, so he definitely had no rights to give her cues. He was simply a helper tonight, someone who was willing to support her and give her informations, but absolutely not to give her orders. She was about to tell him this, when she noticed that his attention was already focused on Bailey.

"Here's how it's going to work," Jason said, stepping forward, his large posture towering over him. "We're probably going to beat you senseless, but if you cooperate, we may just spare an arm or two. Well, _she_ might. I'm not quite as charitable as little miss sunshine here."

He finished it off with a vigorous kick to the man's stomach, throwing him to the trash can. The blow was not _too_ hard, though; Jason just put the right amount of force to make him hurt like the devil — one from the impact of his foot to his body and the other from the collision with the metal trash can — without sending him to unconsciousness. After all, they still needed to interrogate him about the whereabouts of the missing children. _If_ the children were alive. But Cass didn't want to think about that possibility right now, especially with the sight of the man responsible for it crumpled and helpless against a stack of dump, groaning in pain as he hold his bruised stomach.

"That was for Luke," Jason said, "and for calling her 'babe.'"

Cass approached him slowly. She grabbed hold of his clothes, raising him so that their eyes met, and spoke: "Where are they?"

He sneered. "In the morgue."

She punched him.

She would've done much more too, if not for Jason snatching away her quarry and slamming him to the brick wall with full exertion. Jason's breathing was labored, even though he hadn't even started to beat the crap out of him yet. The gun was still in his left hand, clasped uselessly on his side. He was not going to use it. The way Jason's fist clenched and the other man's cruel smile met was enough for Cass to deduce that this would end in a blood bath.

"Where are they?" Jason repeated, shoving him rougher to the wall.

"Ooh, this is every little boy's fantasy, isn't it?" Bailey said with an irritating singsong voice that could drive Cass insane. "Pushed against the wall by a dreamy man and a sexy little bat. My, my, where does this seem familiar? Oh, that's right," he grinned, "it was one of my nights with tiny Luke. Pity he couldn't handle four bullets all that well."

And Jason lost it. He punched and thrashed, kicked and jabbed, until the man's eyes were slits beneath the swollen blue skin and he bled through his nose and mouth. He was furious, his rage plain on every blow, his frustration radiating on the cold night air. And for a while Cass could do nothing but watch, because this Jason Todd seemed so lost and desperate that Cass couldn't help but pitied him. She understood that there was more than just blind anger in him. Jason hit Bailey so hard partly because yes, the creep deserved it, but also because he was releasing everything that's been bottled up inside for so many years right at this moment.

"Stop," said Cass, gripping Jason's shoulder.

He didn't even glance at her; he just kept hitting him with all his might, with all his strength and energy. Cass took the initiative to grab his right arm and twisted it to his back, and when that didn't stop him from trying to continue beating the guy with his left hand, she held him and tossed him to the opposite wall. His collision with the hard brick produced a painful crashing noise, and Cass just knew that he would be sore in the morning.

"I'm ... sorry," said Cass, standing between him and the man.

"No problem," Jason replied lightly, dusting off his shirt (though he still cringed a little). He frowned, raised his gun, and pointed to Cass' general direction. "Just move. Now. I need to finish that bastard."

Then Cass experienced one of the most awful and strained silence ever. She refused to move, yet she could feel Jason's stare burning straight through her. He was questioning her morality, she thought. Here she was, Black Bat, adopted daughter of Batman, protecting a pedophile from harm. She felt ashamed, but then she knew what was justice and what was payback. She would not budge; she would not let Jason murder him for all the wrong reasons.

"No," she said firmly.

"No?"

"We need to ask him ... where Luke ... and the others are ..."

Jason laughed bitterly. "Luke's dead. You heard him."

"He could be ... lying ..."

Jason seemed to think about this. "Did he?" he asked, a tinge of hope, however little it was, apparent in his voice. He turned his attention Bailey, who was now out-cold and bloodied, studying him. Then he shook his head decidedly. "He didn't, did he? You'd know."

Cass looked away.

He wasn't lying. This guy was much too proud to lie about an achievement such as hiding children from the police and every masked vigilante in Gotham for a whole week before raping the children and murdering them. All done under the Bats' very noses. It disgusted her, but he didn't lie, and she couldn't do the same to Jason because she simply never told anything but the truth before. And even if she resolved to do it, Jason would have found out, and what good would that do? He would become angrier and more resentful to the Bats that way. She didn't want that. She wanted him to trust her.

"He killed them, Cass," Jason said quietly, using her real name. "I promised Luke, and this son of a bitch killed him. He killed Daisy too, for all we know. And you're going to let him go with a few bruises just so he could do it again. Tell me, where's the fairness in that? Where's the justice that Batman had swore to bring to everyone who deserve it? Luke didn't deserve to die. He does."

"Jason," Cass said, almost pleading. "Don't."

But he didn't change his stance, much to Cass disappointment.

A sinking feeling that Jason would not listen dawned upon her. They were both just too stubborn, she resolved. Neither would move, because each had a goal set in mind. Jason's was to bring justice. Cass' was to bring home the children safely. This was their biggest difference; Jason whole heartedly believed that all was lost and that kids were dead. There was nothing he could do to save them, so he tried to punish the man who did this instead. Whereas Cass ... she didn't want to accept that the kids were gone. Not yet. At least, not until she saw with her own eyes their motionless body scattered on the ground.

Cass made a decision. She swiftly grabbed Jason's hand and held the mouth of the gun to her chest.

"What —"

"Shoot."

He couldn't. She knew he couldn't — wouldn't, anyway. His helmet still concealed his face, but by the slight change in the angle of it, Cass could conclude that Jason was gaping. She imagined him staring at her in disbelief, and the thought of that somewhat comforted her, knowing that she still held some control over the situation. It was with full understanding of what might happen that she made that choice, but she still did it regardless, because she believed in her instinct. Sure, Jason may shoot her and the man as well, but she had a feeling that he wouldn't. Well, she had hoped that he wouldn't anyway, and by the lack of bullet in her gut, she thought that it was a pretty good bet.

The pause that wrapped over them was so full of tension that she thought of just knocking Jason unconscious so she could drag Bailey's body to the nearest police station and concentrate on locating the kids. She didn't, though. As it happened, something made her grip Jason's hand tighter, as if she was daring him to pull the trigger already, to just do it and make it fast.

"Fine," Jason snapped, lowering his hand quickly. "You play dirty, you know, pretty bat?"

Cass sighed in relief but didn't waste any time after that, as she turned to Bailey and press that one spot on his head that made him scream in agony. It gave her some satisfaction, but she knew she mustn't relish in it that much.

"Where?" she simply asked.

This time, he talked. He told her about the secret floor between the first and second floor of an insurance building. It would be locked. Two very capable guards would be there. They would find some dozen children tied in the room, drugged and starved. He reckoned about a couple would've died already, since it was about a week since he had fed them. He had been bored and tired of their whining, he said.

When he was done, Cass dug her thumb to his temple so he passed out. That ought to stop Jason to do more damage to this poor bastard. She would personally take Bailey to Arkham himself, or at least to Batman, but her mind was already wondering to a damp, little room in an insurance building where kids were hungry and confused. So for now, she settled with dumping him to the back of a trash can, covering him with stray banana peels and sacks of black plastic bags. She would come back to him later. The thing she did with her thumb could last for days, and she was sure she'd be here in the morning after everything was over.

She looked at Jason. An unspoken agreement came between them and they both ran like madmen to where the children were located. There was hope. Luke could still be alive. And for now, that was all that Cass needed.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: So, what do you think? I've been playing with the idea of Jason and Cass meeting each other, and this is what I came up with. I'm doing their relationship to grow slowly and gradually, though. I just want them to have a believable dynamic. They have so much potential, and I just hope I'll do them justice! <strong>

**You'll learn who Luke and Daisy are in the next chapter. More angst in the second chapter as well. Enjoy! Reviews are always pleasantly anticipated! :D**


	2. Jason

Jason thought about a great number of things in the first ten-seconds when he saw Luke got beaten to a bloody pulp by two enormous men in the secret room.

He thought about himself, oddly enough. His mind wondered through a distant memory, one where a boy was shielding his head with his bare hands from a crowbar held by a madman. All the smacking and cracking. The blood and lost hope. He remembered the sneer of the clown looking down at him, talking to him in that disgustingly mocking voice, _"Won't you sing for me, little bird?"_. But of course he did not scream. He had wanted to, but he'd known that it would not do for a hero to succumb to a criminal's taunt. He just needed to hold on a little bit longer, he had told himself. Wait until Batman arrived (because of course he would make it, why on earth not?) and showed the Joker who's really boss.

The clock was ticking, though, and his mother had still been tied up. Twenty-seconds until the building blew up. Jason loosen the tie of his mother's rope. She had been grateful. She had smiled at him. He felt like he was being a perfectly good son for the first time. Fifteen-seconds. Why wasn't Bruce here yet? Twelve-seconds. No matter. Just another few steps and — _oh_. The door had been locked.

Ten-seconds.

Jason jolted back into reality. Ten-seconds. Just ten little seconds, that was all he needed to register his shock and turned that into raw anger. He charged at the men and brought one down with his fist. Boy, did they seemed surprised. He hoped the man's face had hurt as much as his hand was aching from the impact of the blow. Before the other goon could throw a punch at him (as he had predicted before he had acted), Jason swept his foot and it collided with the man's legs. He lost balance and fell. Jason allowed himself a small amount of satisfaction at how easy these idiots were to take down. The feeling of rage had not yet diminished from him, though. Luke was still hurt.

He was about to attend to Luke before he felt a rush of air behind him. When he turned around, Cass was there, and the first goon had his arms pinned behind him, cringing in pain. Oh, she was good,_ that_ he could not deny. It was obvious that Asshole One had stood up and was going to hit him when he had his back turned, if not for Pretty Bat to the rescue. Nonetheless, Jason didn't think the blow would be a problem at all. If he did smack him, it would only cost Jason a tiny momentum of annoyance. The goon would be out cold in just a matter of seconds after that.

Still. Cass did got his back and Jason was nothing if not a (murdering vigilante) gentleman, so he waved a hand absentmindedly and muttered, "Thanks."

He received a nod in return, but he could have sworn he glanced a mischievous smirk on her face the moment he just turned away. _Heh_. Cocky creep. Peculiarly, Jason found that he did not mind her subtle act of pride at all. If ever, he found it to be a redeeming quality to the bat symbol she had so proudly wore on her chest. A tad of arrogance was always refreshing, he thought to himself. Not that he was ever going to admit that, of course. It was too dangerous to associate with these nocturnal creatures that he once was apart of.

Cass seemed to have Asshole One taken care of, so Jason stepped on Asshole Two's head until he was sure he passed out. Just to be on the safe side.

Now on to the hard part: Luke. Jason crouched down beside him and held his hands — a bit of comfort after going through hell for the last couple of weeks. He knew it wouldn't help much, but seeing Luke lying down helpless with blood on his mouth and nose and forehead, he just needed to do something. He felt like he had lost the boy who ate pizza with him every Friday night to someone who couldn't even open his eyes because they were so swollen. Luke was wheezing instead of breathing, and every inhale seemed as painful as the slashes in Jason's guts. His yellow jacket and jeans were tattered. Dirt was covering the fabric of his clothes. Someone had been busy, Jason thought bitterly.

"Got the kids out," Luke choked out. "Daisy's with them. They're in Gotham Elementary."

Jason looked at Cass. He half-expected her to run straight to the door that very instant and to start searching for the children right away. After all, that was her whole purpose of sticking with Jason, wasn't it? It was just a matter of unfortunate accident that Jason's tiny acquaintance, Daisy, was unlucky enough to have gotten herself kidnapped, and Jason happened to have a lead on the criminal. Then there was that whole fiasco with Luke wanting to rescue his sister despite his inability to fight, and as such, it was up to Jason to bring home that stubborn girl and to keep her brother to behave at the same time. This whole mess made him felt like he was a fussy mother who had to keep things in order while being followed around by a spooky shadow of the night. He wished this nightmare would end soon. He had had enough of social interactions for now.

But Cass stayed. She opened her mouth, presumably to say something (unless she needed to yawn or whatever, but Jason doubted that), then closed it again. He interpreted the shaking of her head meant something along the line of _"never mind,"_ but he had a bad feeling that it was something more. He decided to ignore it, though. Maybe he was just thinking too much.

"We need to get you to the hospital," Jason looked down at Luke, scooping him up gingerly. The boy just nodded weakly, and Jason worried if he inflicted further damage to him.

"I called back-up," Cass said her first words since they arrived. "She's downstairs."

"Back up?" Jason raised one eyebrow behind his hood.

"Yes. Downstairs."

Jason didn't need Cass to repeat what he already knew, damn it. He needed her to give an eloquent and adequate explanation as to _why_ on the devil's splendid world, did she have to call back-up that they hardly require. He had everything under control, didn't he? Make a temporary team with a frightening daughter of an assassin, check. Find Riley the Rapist and resolve to not finish him brutally, double check. Bully him until he tell them where the children are, check. Actually rescuing the children — well, Luke had pretty much taken care of that, hadn't he? All they have to do now was to pick the brats up along with Daisy. Everything was perfectly under control.

Except Cass didn't seem to think so, because she had already fled downstairs to meet this back-up person. Grunting a little, Jason had no choice but to follow suit. He tucked Luke safely on his arms, who was quite light for a twelve-year-old, and continued to pursue Cass to the first floor.

What Cass described as "back-up" was apparently a blonde girl in a purple-ish bat costume riding a motorcycle twice her size. She cheerfully greeted Cass as if they were high school friends, as if she didn't know that Cass was capable of rendering a man unconscious with just a press of her fingers. As it happens, Blondie seemed to have adapted a comfortable and light demeanor to Pretty Bat. She spoke easily enough: "Yo. Came her as fast as I could, since I'm the only one available right now. And this must be ... hey, you look familiar."

Jason shrugged nonchalantly.

Blondie gasped.

"Batgirl ..." Cass started, but Purple Girl was shaking her head frantically.

"He told you not to!"

"I don't always do what he said," replied Cass, then added, "and you don't either."

Jason nodded appreciatively and chimed in, "Amen." He grinned at the pair of them, pleased that they were nothing like that obedient boy who was his successor — what was his name? Tim Drake? No, Tim _Wayne_, he had been told. Bah! Fucking replacement. Swinging his goody-two-shoes wings here and there, flaunting that R sign on his chest like it was a personal medal or something. Jason heard that he was the leader of the Teen Titans. He thought about the lack of statue he had in the Titans' tower memorial hall, but quickly cleared that out of his mind. He was getting off track. No use pitying himself at this crucial time, now, was there? He had to focus on Luke. The boy was squirming painfully against his body.

"Nice meeting you, Blondie," said Jason, approaching the motorcycle. "But we have to go. Excuse me." He seated Luke on the vehicle, right in front of Purple Girl. Then he gripped her waist to lift her up. She slapped his face. Hard. _Ouch_. What was it with girls and slapping, he thought angrily. Really! He was just trying to move things faster, and actually had the brilliant initiative to get Blondie out of the way quick so that he could ride the damn machine and get Luke the proper medication that he needed. Plus, he had said, "Excuse me," hadn't he?

Jason was about to voice his protest, when Cass grabbed his arm and jumped on top of the motorcycle, securing Luke in his arms. Little miss Blondie got off the bike, startled by Cass' action. Again, Jason didn't exactly have a say in this, as he was forced to ride the thing as well. It irked him a little to have to sit at the back, but he digressed. He watched with great anticipation while Cass started the engine and it roared beautifully for everyone (well, at least the three of them, not counting unconscious Luke) to hear. He felt good and alive and his veins were rushing with adrenaline, and this time it was the good kind of rush, not the raging one he had when he knocked Luke's assailants out.

"We're borrowing this," Cass said to Purple Girl. "Gotham Elementary's just a few blocks away. You can ... pick up the children there."

"Children?" She seemed puzzled, but Cass was already driving away with maximum speed. The last thing Jason heard was Blondie's cry of "YOU _SO_ OWE ME BIG FOR THIS!"

Grinning, Jason said, "I think I like your style."

"Can't say the same about yours," Cass replied. "Sorry."

"Didn't think you would. Anyway. Who's the eggplant?"

"Funny, that was ... how she described the color too," said Cass, her tone amused. "She's Batgirl. The new Batgirl. We're ... friends."

Right then, before Jason could converse with her any further, Cass resolved to accelerate their transportation to a speed the Flash could possibly match. Jason could feel her hair flying in his direction and her capes covering most of his upper body because of the wind. At this rate, he had to grab onto her hips so that he would not fall. He wondered aloud why she had gathered speed, but she didn't answer. She became tenser, he noted. Something was wrong.

"Jason." Her voice was urgent.

Jason chose to keep quiet. He could not bear to hear it. He knew what would come next.

"Jason," Cass tried again. "We're ... losing him."

He watched the road and when it split into two, ordered her to turn right. She obliged. He continued to give her directions; left, right, right again, straight through. Don't stop, don't talk. Don't even think. Just drive. Look at the street and remember where to go. We're almost there. Cass followed his every command, not once questioning him. He found that comforting, but only barely. There was nothing that could make him in the least okay right now. He was going to fail, and fail miserably at that. All he could do now was to scream directions against the gusty wind to this stranger girl like his life depended on it.

"Stop."

They arrived with a halt, sending Jason's body forward. He could smell the jasmine in Cass' hair and the salty scent of sweat for a split second. They were somehow intoxicating, that aroma that were more body odor than artificial perfume. Jason forced himself to concentrate on that so that he would at least had something real to hold on to for what was to come. Letting out a long sigh, he descended to the ground.

In front of them stood a small building made of decaying wood and held together by mostly newer woods that were applied carelessly with messy nails. The windows did not have any glasses. There was no door, just a rectangular hole for which people were supposed to enter and exit. If it rained, the inhabitants would need to provide for a lot of buckets, as the roof had lost more than half of its' tiles and the remaining ones were cracked and broken. But as if to remedy the house of its' condition, beside it stood a gorgeous apple tree, which thick leaves shadowed the creeky old home quite cozily. There was even a swing built on one of the branches. A cat slept lazily on the ground next to it, to add to the homey effect.

Jason took Luke gently from Cass' arms, and cradled him carefully. He strode off into the house in a steady fashion until he reached a battered single bed in the corner (the house had only one room, serving as a bedroom, a dining room, and a playroom, by the looks of the discarded toys and dinner table in it). Setting down the boy's body meticulously, Jason found himself praying to no God in particular; just to the general force that moved the universe around. He prayed for this poor boy to have a second chance. After all, _he_ was given that, and what did he do with it? Nothing but murder an innocent kid by his irresponsible lack of care.

"Red Hood ..." Luke whimpered, but was still unable to open his eyes. Jason was sure he cracked a rib or two, and the internal bleeding was too much. He saw those bastards used something other than their hands to take the life out of him, perhaps a club or a bat. He neither knew nor cared.

"I'm here," Jason said firmly.

"Is Daisy all right?'

"Yes."

"Good. Take care of her, will you?"

"Of course."

"And Jason?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm sorry I missed Friday night's pizza."

Luke relaxed and let out his last breath.

Then Jason noticed Cass was holding his hand because it was trembling too much.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Whew! I'm sorry this took so painfully long, but my school keeps me busy by assigning homeworks and projects and the likes. Anyways. YEAH MORE INTERACTION! It really stumped me how on earth could I make their first attraction to each other to be believable, and I actually had to sit around on my bed for a while to figure it out. It's still subtle in this chapter, but that's where I'm going with it in this story. Slow and steady.<strong>

**Next chapter is still kind of angsty, but more towards the direction of yes-they-actually-do-care-about-each-other. Tell me what you think about this chapter in the reviews then. Enjoy!**


End file.
